The Little Things
by R.K. Cloud
Summary: John always remembered the big things like how to keep his boys safe from anything supernatural.  But John didn’t always realize how important the little things were.  My first fic!  Please review!  Complete!
1. Chapter 1

---This is my first fanfiction and all I can say is that I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's short, but I think it makes its point.

He always remembered the big things. He always knew what to do when it came to the things that were outwardly important. He always remembered to put a ring of salt around the boys' beds before he left overnight. Always knew what Latin to chant to get rid of a spirit or a demon. Always remembered how to keep his boys safe from anything supernatural. But John didn't always realize how important the little things were.

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Ch. 1: Toaster

Why was it so damn hard to figure out how to use the damned toaster? He looked down at the contraption that the dingy motel provided for him. It'd been so long since he'd used a toaster. He'd watched Mary make toast for him and Dean every morning, up to the very day of her death. It had never looked _this_ complicated, but then again, their old toaster didn't have all these knobs with all of these different settings on it. John had always let Mary deal with the toast, gladly accepting the simple task of pouring milk and cereal.

John stared at the toaster again before picking it up and slamming it down in frustration. That's when he saw his five-year-old son walk up to him, legs still wobbly, eyes still heavy from sleep.

"Mornin' Dean," he said, pushing his frustration aside as he lifted up his little boy and set him on the tiled counter. "Sleep well, son?"

"Yessir." Dean replied, words slurred as he lifted a sleepy hand and rubbed his eyes. "Bu' why're you slammin' aroun' the toaster?" he asked, eyeing the now slightly dented metal heap.

"You wouldn't happen to know how to work one of these, would you, son?"

Dean smiled, his voice beginning to perk up. "Did ya put the bread in the little slot, daddy?"

John gave his son an incredulous look. "Of course I did."

"Did you push the little handle down?"

_Of course he'd tried that._ "Sure did." John smiled, not _really_ expecting that his son knew how to work the toaster any better than he did, but humored him anyway. "But it still won't work. It just pops right back up the second I push it down." Milk and cereal was starting to sound really good at this point.

Dean stared at the toaster. "Did you try turning the little knob? It's pointing at the number '0'."

John looked down at the toaster again. _Damn. How'd he miss that? Maybe if he hadn't been so damn frustrated._ He turned the knob to the number '5' and pulled the handle down. The bread stayed in the slot this time, and he could feel the heat already beginning to cook the bread. John looked back up to Dean, slight embarrassment starting to show itself. He hid it behind another grin directed towards his son. "Why don't you go get your brother up and we'll have some breakfast," he said, not willing to admit his stupid mistake.

"Okay," Dean replied as John lifted him off of the counter and onto the linoleum floor. "But daddy," he said, turning back to his father, as he smelled the unfamiliar smell of burning food and saw an excess of smoke beginning to rise from the toaster. "Maybe we shouldn't have toast. I think you broke the toaster." Than he turned around to wake a still sleeping Sammy.

John looked down, and quickly unplugged the toaster. He grabbed a towel and waved it around to get rid of the smoke. Surely it had been caused by the dent he'd inflicted on the hunk of metal. He felt frustration beginning to build again, but couldn't help but chuckle instead, at his own stupidity. His son, in his five-year-old patience, had just figured out how to work the device, when all he could do in his own _im_patience was have a one sided wrestling match with the thing, that unfortunately led to its demise.

But that's how it always was. John was always short tempered, impatient, and quick to get frustrated. He also seemed to forget how to do all the little things. The little things that were important. Like how to work a toaster, for instance. Somehow, he knew, this small flaw; this tendency to bypass the things that didn't seem to matter would cause trouble later on.

_Maybe I should pay more attention_, he absently thought, not really listing to his own advice, but searching around for some clean bowls and spoons. For now, he'd stick to cereal and milk.

---New chapter coming soon. Hopefully a longer one. Reviews are extremely helpful. I'm new to this and any comments and constructive critisism would be greatly appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW. Just writing about it for pure enjoyment.

Thank you SO much to everyone who wrote a review! Your kind words mean so much to me. Here's the next part. It's quite a bit longer than the first. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2: Sunburn

Four years since the toaster incident, and it was just a memory in the back of his mind. Now his mind was on other things. Like the heat. John and his boys were in California after news of a mysterious string of deaths surrounding a small town about thirty miles from there.

"It's hot daddy," Sammy whined as he hung on to an equally annoyed Dean. "An' my skin's all sticky." He scrunched up his nose to show his disgust.

"I know son," was all he could reply. It _was_ hot. And very humid.

John had taken Sam and Dean along with him to ask some people around town about any information they had on the deaths. He hadn't really wanted to bring the boys, but there was no air conditioning in the little run-down house they'd been staying in. Now that he thought about it, there was no air conditioning in his Chevy either. It was just as hot as it would have been at the house, but at least the two could get some fresh air.

"Just awhile longer," he told the five-year-old as he turned down a road that led them deeper into the country side. But Sammy was giving him _that_ look. The look that could make a soldier's heart melt. He looked up at John with those big, sad, disappointed eyes. _Damn. If looks could kill. _

"And then we can go and get you boys some ice cream to cool down," John said as they continued to walk down the street, hoping that that would cheer him up and get that damn look off his face.

Sammy's face instantly lit up. "Really?" he shouted a little too loudly. "Did you hear that Dean? Daddy says we can get ice cream!"

"I heard Sammy. Wow dad, you really are a sucker for that look," Dean replied.

Dean was quiet once John shot his son a look of his own, one that Dean knew meant 'watch it.'

John stopped the car in front of a long driveway that lead to an old looking white and blue farmhouse. All three Winchesters got out.

"You boys listen real carefully," John began as he crouched down eye level to Sammy. "You two wait by the car. I need to go inside for a little while and talk to some people. If there's any trouble Dean-"he paused and watched as a car drove by. "If there's any trouble, and I mean _any_ kind of trouble, you get Sammy out of here as quick as you can. There are weapons in the trunk," he concluded. Then he added, "_Only_ for in case. Stay out of the trunk- don't even _touch_ the trunk, unless you absolutely have to," he said, knowing that these two got bored easily. "I'm not expecting anythin'll happen. But just remember, if anything does-"

"We _know _dad," Dean interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Any trouble, get Sammy out. Don't touch the weapons unless we need to."

"This is a big deal Dean. I need to know you two can be safe." _This was the most important thing. This was his sons' safety._

"We promise we'll stay safe daddy," Sammy said. "Just hurry back so we can get ice cream."

John patted his son on the shoulder before getting up and heading down the long driveway towards the farmhouse. He turned back to his sons. "And remember boys," he shouted. "You stay right where you are. I mean it. Don't you wander off. If anyone comes by, don't tell them anything about yourselves; just say your dad will be right back."

"We know," both boys yelled back, urging him to hurry up.

---------

The job had taken longer than he'd expected. It turned out that this was actually the home of the spirit that had been causing so much trouble for the little town. It had given him some trouble as well, especially when it came to digging up those bones.

By the time he was finished burning and salting the remains it was late afternoon. The sun was just beginning to set. It was no longer so humid, but instead the sun shined down with an intense, burning heat. He was tired and hot and wanted nothing more than to turn on the fan and lie in bed. _Ice cream would have to wait._

He looked down the driveway and in the distance and saw his sons leaning against the car, apparently asleep. Whenever he dragged the boys along on hunts, that's often how the day ended. John would return to the Impala, tired and sore, to find the boys cuddled together, asleep.

But as John got closer, he noticed something. The boys' faces were awfully red. Too red. He picked up his pace and quickly returned to where Sam and Dean lay sleeping, but what he saw discomforted him. His boys' arms were just as red as there faces, if not redder, and John knew that the cause had been the blazing hot sun. _Damn it. He was so sure he hadn't forgotten anything. But he did. Sunscreen. Why didn't he think to make his boys wear sunscreen? _

He crouched down and gently shook Dean's leg. Dean woke up, unaware that anything was wrong. "Done already dad?" he asked sleepily. Sammy woke up at the sound of his brother's voice. He lifted a hand and rubbed his face, crying out as his hand touched the tender red skin.

"Owwww!" He cried. Tears began to rush to his eyes, streaming down his red face.

"Shhh, Sammy, it's ok son. Come on, we're gonna take care of this," he said gently, trying to calm the wailing boy down. Dean looked at his own arms and got up, but not without John noticing the wince that he gave. John saw tears beginning to pool in Dean's eyes as well. He looked at both the boys again, reassessing the burns. They were bad. _How could a sunburn be this bad?_

He put one arm gently under Sammy's legs. The touch made Sammy cry even louder. He put another arm behind his son's back and as quickly and gently as possible, lifted him into the Impala.

"You should have looked for some shade," John said, the comment directed towards Dean. Unsure of why he really said it. _This wasn't Dean's fault. _

"I'm sorry," Dean began. "It's just the closest tree is way over there," he motioned to a big tree that stood farther out in a field. "and you told us to stay by the car. I guess we got tired and fell asleep."

John didn't reply to his son's explanation. _He _had_ told the boys to stay where they were._

Once they were all settled, John drove quickly down the road, looking back at his boys in the rear-view mirror. Sammy was still sniffling, tears threatening to stream down his red face again. _He'd caused his sons to be in pain. How could he be so stupid?_ He heard Dean whispering small words of comfort to the hurting five-year-old. He sped on down the road, just a little faster.

---------

The three Winchesters made it back to the old house that they'd rented fairly quickly. The three got out of the car and quickly made there way up the old wooden steps that creaked under their feet. John led the boys into the kitchen and motioned for them to sit down on two chairs. He searched through a cabinet that contained bottles of various pills and medicines. He threw the bottles to the floor in a frustrated search for something to help with the burns. Finally, he found a bottle of aloe. He pulled out the bottle, along with some rags and children's aspirin.

John gave both the boy's some aspirin to help with the pain. He began treating Sammy's burns first. "I'm sorry Sammy, this is gonna hurt. But once I do it, it'll feel nice and cool," he said as he reached for his son's arm. John winced as the little boy began to wail again as the cold remedy touched his skin._ This was all his fault._

As John continued, he thought back to a fourth of July picnic that he, Mary, Dean, and Sam had gone to. It was Sam's first fourth of July and Dean was excited enough for the both of them. As soon as they got there, Dean was running around to all of the colorful booths that had been set up, insisting on making sure that Sammy see everything.

It was hot that day. Mary stopped for a minute and began to put sunscreen on the baby, before covering his head with a hat. John had taken Dean to play one of the games that had been set up. Mary went over to the two. She'd said something about Dean, sunscreen, and the heat, but he hadn't managed to catch the entire sentence, as Dean threw a baseball at one of the stacked up bottles.

"Good job son," he said to Dean enthusiastically after he'd knocked one down. "Look Mary, our son's a natural."

The day had gone by quickly. It wasn't until late afternoon that John had noticed Dean's face becoming slightly red. Apparently, Mary noticed it to and quickly began rubbing sunscreen onto Dean, giving John an angry look. He'd forgotten about the sunscreen.

The day went on, ending with the four of them sitting on a blanket as the night was lit up by blazing fireworks. For now, John's mistake was forgotten, but he would be reminded of it later that night, when Dean, half asleep, crawled into bed between him and Mary, complaining that his sunburn hurt. _Even then, he couldn't remember a simple parenting task._

---------

John had just finished treating the last of Dean's burns, reminded of the little boy who had crawled into his bed that night.

"How does that feel?" he asked his sons.

"Better dad," Dean replied, forcing a grin and rubbing at the gauze his dad had just put over the worst part of the sunburn. The boys looked better and John couldn't help but relax a little in relief.

"But daddy," Sammy spoke up after a moment of silence. He was no longer crying, simply hiccupping and sniffling now and then.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"I think me and Dean would feel better if we had some ice cream."

John said nothing, simply grinned. His grin turned into a smile, his smile turn into a laugh.

He watched Sammy's hopeful expression for a minute before giving in. "I'll be right back. Ice cream parlor's right down the street. "Are you two ok here for a minute?"

Both boys nodded eagerly. John grabbed his keys and headed toward the door. He closed it, began to lock it, and then paused. _He'd really done it this time. How could he have forgotten something so simple? _He was so caught up in making sure they knew what to do in case of an attack, that he'd forgotten about a much simpler threat. But that's always how it was. He was too caught up in the hunt to notice the little things.

He turned around and headed toward the Impala. He could have thought about it some more, but he didn't. After all, there were two hungry boys in there, just waiting for some ice cream.

Hope you enjoyed it!

As before, reviews and suggestions are extremely helpful and greatly appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

---Again, thank you for all of your kind reviews. They really encourage me when it comes to writing this story. Well, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Baseball Game

It was a nasty poltergeist. Nothing John couldn't handle, but nasty none the less. He'd come prepared with all the herbs and trinkets he would need to use to cleanse the house. But he hadn't been quick enough. As he was punching the last hole in the wall to place the little packet that would finish off the thing for sure, he felt himself flying; straight into the kitchen wall. John quickly got up and raced towards the packet that he'd dropped. He reached it, but not before the poltergeist had managed to use the fireplace to set multiple items from the house on fire. _This thing was going to go out with a fight._ John finally managed to reach the hole in the wall and placed the packet in. There was a flash of light and then everything was quiet. John looked around and realized that the house was on fire and the flames were quickly spreading.

John managed to get out of the house and back on the road as he heard the sirens approaching. He couldn't help but think of the poor family that would be returning to their nearly destroyed home. But at least the poltergeist was dead, and wouldn't be bothering them anymore.

---------

By the time he got home it was dark. He was eager to get inside and lie down. He opened the door to of the house they were staying at to find his eight-year-old son sitting on the couch reading a book. It seemed like ever since the kid had learned to read he had his nose in some book or another.

At the sight of John, Sammy looked up, said "Hi dad," and looked back down at his book with the concentration of somebody performing surgery. He looked way too serious to be his Sammy.

John smiled and said, "That's the best greeting I get?"

"Sorry dad. I'm almost done with this chapter."

John waited about thirty seconds before the boy put his book down and got up eagerly to hug him. This was more like the Sammy he knew. John sat down and patted the couch next to him. Sam walked over to him, sitting down on John's knee instead.

"Where's your brother," John asked him.

"He's in our room," Sam replied. "But daddy, he's real upset."

John looked confused. "Why's he upset?"

"He told me he was fine, but I could tell he wasn't."

John gave a frustrated sigh. "Sam, why is Dean upset?"

"'Cause his baseball game was today. It was the tournament."

_Damn it, he forgot._ John had allowed Dean to join the baseball team at school because he was planning on staying in town for the remainder of the boys' school year. Dean had been so excited. He loved the game and was good at it too. John remembered getting a call from the coach, praising the twelve-year-old on his baseball skills, even calling Dean a natural. John was always too busy to go to the games, but he knew Dean understood. _Or at least he thought he did._

He remembered telling Dean that he would be at the game. The boy's face lit up, even though he insisted that it was no big deal and that John didn't have to come.

"You missed it daddy. I don't know lots about baseball but everyone was cheering when Dean hit the ball. And there was lots of food there too. Dean gave me some money and said I could have whatever I wanted as long as it didn't have too much sugar but I still bought lots of-"

"Whoa there Sammy." Sam's voice was running a mile a minute and it was obvious that he hadn't listened to his big brother's 'not to much sugar' rule. The sugar rush was beginning to kick in. "It sounds like you had a good time."

"Yeah, but it woulda been more fun if you were there."

John said nothing, just thought to himself. _ Guess he'd have to explain things to Dean._

"Why don't you read some more of your book there Sam. I'm gonna go up and say hey to Dean."

"'Kay dad."

John got up and started up the stairs. He knew the game was important, but so was the hunt. _After all, it was just a baseball game. No big deal. _Dean would understand.

John opened the door to the bedroom that Sam and Dean shared. He saw Dean sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, scribbling something in a notebook. When the door opened, Dean lifted his head. "Hey son," John greeted as he went to sit on a chair next to the bed.

"Hey dad," Dean greeted back, although his voice lacked its usual enthusiasm.

John smiled and Dean forced a grin as well.

They sat in silence for a minute. _Well, it was now or never._ "Look son, about your baseball tournament today," he began, but John stopped, leaving the room in silence, searching for the words to say.

To spare themselves from another moment of the unbearable quiet, Dean quickly spoke up. "It's not a big deal."

But John knew it _was_ a big deal to him. He studied his son for a moment, noticing just how old he sounded. But that was in Dean's nature. Dean became an adult the day that Mary died. He was able to hide his emotions too well. His hid them behind an invisible wall; behind those hazel eyes of his.

But John also noticed Dean's voice. He could always tell how Dean was really feeling by listening to his voice. It was very subtle, almost undetectable, but when Dean was upset, his voice always sounded younger. And right now, he sounded like the twelve-year-old he really was.

Guilt began to creep through John. "I really wanted to be there son. But you know how important the hunt was." _More important than a promise to his son?_

"Yeah, dad. I know." Dean looked back down at his notebook, trying to hide the emotion that was obviously becoming harder to hide.

John placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, trying to console his disappointed boy. "I promise I'll be at your next game."

"'Kay dad," Dean said, giving John a _real _smile this time.

That was all John had to say to Dean. The boy always forgave his father so easily that John sometimes felt guilty. But he knew his son would rather just forget about it then hear a long, heartfelt apology, which John was extremely glad for, considering he never was one for words.

"So, tell me about the game today."

As John said the words, Sammy burst into the room. The kid had been listening at the door. "The game was great, dad!" Sammy yelled, answering for his brother. John and Dean both smiled. _Guesse the sugar rush hasn't died down yet._

---------

The three Winchesters sat on the bed for awhile as Dean recounted the details of the tournament.

"It was my turn to bat and I hit a home run," Dean told his dad, finishing up his story. Any hint that he had been upset earlier had disappeared. "We won the game. Those suckers lost nine to three."

"Sounds like you had a great time," John said.

"But Dean," Sam spoke up suddenly. "You forgot about what happened _after_ the game. Sam had a silly looking grin on his face.

"Nothing happened after game," Dean replied, a little too quickly.

"Yeah-_huh_. You kissed Carrie Walker."

"You don't say," John replied grinning. John found this little bit of information slightly amusing. _That was all he needed now. His son going around kissing girls. When did he get old enough to do _that?

"I didn't kiss her, Sammy, she kissed me," Dean said in his defense, cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

"But you liked it," Sam said, the grin on his face continuing to grow.

"You're just jealous you've never kissed a girl."

"_Ewww._ Why would I want to kiss a _girl_?"

John rolled his eyes. "I think it's time for bed," he said before the conversation could go any further.

"But dad," Sammy started to protest, but his complaint quickly turned into a yawn. The sugar rush had finally worn off.

He patted Dean on the shoulder and turned around to tuck Sammy into the bed on the other side of the room. With one last "Goodnight" John turned off the light.

"I'm glad you're coming to my next game dad. It's the last one of the season," Dean yawned.

"I'm glad too son," John said as he closed the door.

But John wouldn't be going to Dean's next game. They would be leaving town this weekend. John would have liked to stay, but there had been witnesses at the house. John couldn't risk being on the police's radar, especially since the credit card scams that were beginning to pile up.

_He was sorry. _Sorry that the boys' couldn't finish up the remainder of the school year in the same town. Sorry that he had to drag the boys into another rat hole they would temporarily call home.So sorry that he'd just made a promise to Dean that he couldn't keep. But that was John's life. Always breaking the little promises he made. But after all, it was _just a baseball game. Dean would understand._ _It was no big deal._

---Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it. I finally know where this story is going. If everything goes according to plan, there should be six chapters in all. As before, reviews are appreciated and extremely helpful.


	4. Chapter 4

---Well, here's chapter four. Again, thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate them. Well, here it is. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Phone Call

John had already been gone for a week. He'd been tracking down the spirit he'd been hunting the entire time, and was finally getting close.

He'd left the boys home during the hunt because Sammy had been sick with a nasty cold. They were expecting him home the night before, but he was too close to finding the spirit to turn back home. _The boys would be fine. They could take care of themselves._

---------

The hunt took three more days. John had been gone a total of ten days. That was ten days that he was away from his boys. Ten days that his twelve-year-old and sixteen-year-old were alone in some crap motel. But John didn't really worry. Dean had been capable of taking care of Sammy since he was seven years old.

As John made his way down the highway, he noticed the rumble of the Impala. He thought of Dean and the interest he'd been showing in the Impala since he turned sixteen. The kid kept hinting how much he wanted it, saying "It's about time the Impala had a new owner," or "You know dad, if I had car, I could drive geek boy here to school." But John wouldn't give in _that _easily.

John's mind wandered back to the road as he turned down the street that led to their motel room. A few minutes later, he turned into the parking lot, stopped the car, and headed to the door. It was late, and _God, he was tired._

He was relived to be back and couldn't wait to get into bed. But his relief to be home quickly turned into heart-stopping fear, as he opened the door and found the motel room empty. His boys were no where in sight.

John turned around and looked into the dark. _Where were they?_ "Sam! Dean!" he yelled as he searched for them in the night.

"Mr. Winchester?" was the reply he received.

John turned around to find a tall, lanky man in a bathrobe and sweatpants walking toward him. "Who are you?" John asked his voice harsh and worried at the same time.

"I'm sorry to alarm you, Mr. Winchester. I'm the manager of this motel. Your son, he-"

"Where are they?" John interrupted, his voice showing no sign of calming down.

"An ambulance showed up here about two hours ago. Your youngest son was sick. Your older boy asked me to tell you where they were when you got back. Said you were on some kind of a business trip?"

John was confused. Sam was sick when he left, but it wasn't' bad enough to require medical attention. _Damn it. How'd it get so bad?_

"What hospital?" John asked quickly as he headed toward the Impala.

---------

The ten minute drive to the hospital seemed to take hours, even though John sped the entire time. _He should have called. Should have found a pay phone and made sure that everything was ok._ When he got to the ER, he went straight to the receptionist.

"I'm looking for my son, Sam-"

"Dad?" He heard Dean's voice behind him. It sounded shaky.

"Dean, where's your brother? What's wrong?" His voice was harsh.

"Dad, he-"

"Mr. Fisher," a doctor interrupted. John looked at Dean, inquiring about the fake last name. Only when Dean nodded, did he turn to look at the doctor.

"Mr. Fisher, your son, Sam, is my patient. I'm Dr. Matteson." Then man stuck out his hand and John quickly gave it a shake. "First, let me assure you that your son is in good hands."

_He just wanted to know what was wrong._ "What's wrong with Sam?"

"Your son has Bronchitis. Let me assure you that it's a very common lung infection and can be treated easily with the right antibiotics. In some cases, it simply goes away on its own."

_Thank god. It didn't sound _too _bad._

"However, in your son's case, it may be a bit more complicated. Because the infection was left without proper medical attention for so long, it's spread in the lungs. We had to provide an oxygen mask because he was having a fairly hard time breathing. His condition will improve provided there are no more complications, but we're definitely going to want to keep him here over night to make sure he's okay. Now, if you'll fill out these papers, we'll get everything worked out."

"Can I see him," John asked.

"Sam is sleeping right now. He's had a rough night. I suggest you feel out these forms and then we'll wake him so you can see him."

John nodded, not liking being told not to see his son, but he was too overwhelmed to say anything. Instead, he took the forms and sat down. He started to fill out the blanks on the papers, but stopped and looked up at Dean, anger in his glare. _How could he have let this happen to his brother?_

"What happened exactly?" John asked, his voice calmer than before, but still firm and harsh.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I thought he was getting better," Dean began. John heard the fear and guilt in his son's voice, but continued staring angrily. "He said he felt ok, but then this morning he started coughing and it sounded really bad. Later on he told me it was hard to breathe and I didn't know what to do." Dean paused for a moment, staring back at his father's angry gaze. "I should have brought him here sooner, but you said to only go to the hospital as a last resort."

"You should've made sure he was ok! You should've taken better care of him!" John yelled loudly enough to catch the attention of a few passersby. "You should have called!" John stopped, listening to his words. _This wasn't Dean's fault. There was no way for Dean to reach him. _He _should have called._

If John had known that Sam was still sick after ten days, he would have told Dean to take him to the hospital. If he'd just had the common sense to pick up the phone and check on his boys, Sam wouldn't be in this condition. _How could he forget something as simple as a phone call?_

"I'm sorry dad. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Sammy." Dean said, guilt still strong in his voice.

John took a deep breath. "Look, son, this wasn't your fault. You didn't hurt Sam. You did the right thing bringing him here." His voice was calm now as was his face. He forced a small grin and Dean did the same.

---------

After filling out the forms and waiting for the better part of an hour, a nurse came up to the two waiting Winchesters and told them that Sam was awake and asking to see them. She led them to his room and closed the door, leaving the three alone.

John went up to his son's bed and smiled softly. He looked tired, but alert. "Hey there Sammy. How you feeling?"

"Pretty good," Sam replied. His voice was extremely course and he winced from the pain of talking.

"Good," Dean said, sitting at the edge of Sam's bed. "'Cuase you look like crap."

John watched Sam roll his eyes, but studied him at the same time. He did look like crap. His hair was messy, his face was pale, and there were small bags under his eyes.

"I'm glad you're feeling better son. The doctor says you're gonna be fine."

"Yeah Sammy," Dean began, his voice soft, putting a hand on his little brother's shoulder. "I'm glad you're alright too."

---------

The next day, Sam was ready to be checked out. A nurse came into his room while John and Dean were getting him ready to leave.

"It's going to be too bad to see you leave, Sam," the pretty nurse spoke up. She was young, John thought, probably in her early twenties. "You're son is quite the cutie, Mr. Fisher. All of the nurses here wanted to be _his_ nurse." She patted Sam on the shoulder and left the room.

Sam chuckled, John smiled, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Come on _cutie_," Dean mocked. "Stop playing the pity card and let's get you home. You need a shower, you smell."

"You're just jealous."

"Of you? _Please." _Dean was wearing his cocky grin again. "All I'd have to do is sneeze and I'd have the nurses eating out of the palm of my hand."

---------

John drove his sons back to the motel. Sam was doing a little better, although they would have to keep him in bed for awhile and make sure that he got the proper care. It took Sam almost two weeks to fully recover.

Dean had been at Sam's side the entire time. John felt guilty, not only for being the cause of Sam's ill condition, but for making Dean feel as though it was his fault. He told the kid there was nothing he could have done, that he did his best in taking care of Sam, but Dean wouldn't hear it.

John had really messed up this time. And it made him angry to know that all of this could have been avoided if he'd just taken the time to call his boys. To check on their condition. But he was too busy with the hunt. That was the most important thing at the time. _More important than checking up on his sons?_ John should have apologized. He should have told them that he would make sure to call regularly the next time he left them alone for a hunt. But he never was one for apologies.

John would make it up to his boys. Not in the form of an apology, but he _would _make it up to them. He would give Sam some money when he got better and have Dean take him to a book store, or to a museum, or whatever the hell it was he liked to do. Then John thought about Dean. The kid was always looking out for his brother. Always protecting him. Dean would have been happy with a simple apology, or with a simple, "I'm proud of you, son," but John couldn't find it in him to say those simple words. Besides, he had an even _better_ way of saying those things, and it came in the form of a '67 Chevy Impala.

----Well, at least John made it up to them this time, right? Thanks for reading, that one was tougher for me to right for some reason. I've had a touch of writer's block lately. As always, reviews are appreciated and help get rid of that pesky writer's block. :)


	5. Chapter 5

---Well, the next chapter is up, sorry it took longer than usual to post this one. Computer troubles abound. But here it is. One more chapter to go after this. Again, thank you for all of your reviews throughout this story. They're what encourage me to write.

Chapter 5: Permission Slip/ Pushing Away

It was just a permission slip. A stupid piece of paper. A damn signature. To John, it was nothing. But he didn't understand how much it meant to Sam_. No, he didn't take the time to understand._

---------

John was furious when he got the call. He'd been on a week long hunt when he received a call from Sam and Dean's school. _At least he was supposed to be on a week long hunt. _

The school requested a conference with John. Something about a forged signature. John told the school that he was on an important business trip, but the school brought up the fact that the last three times a meeting was requested, John was on a "business trip." He was surprised at the tone that the conversation took when they told him that thirteen-year-old and seventeen-year-olds who were still in school had no business being frequently left alone for days at a time. Worried that the school would get CPS involved, John reluctantly turned his truck around, promising the school he would be there in an hour. _Whatever Dean did this time, there would be hell to pay when he got there. _

John was surprised when he walked into the school office and found not only Dean, but Sam as well. Dean was sitting in a chair, arms crossed, with a familiar bored look on his face. Sam on the other hand was pacing back and forth with a worried look.

If John hadn't been so angry about his interrupted hunt, the sight would have been amusing. Dean was a good kid, but had been called into the principal's office a few times before, usually for some smart-ass remark he'd shot at the teacher without thinking. His attitude in the principal's office was always the same: bored, un-amused, ready to say anything just to get out of there.

But Sam had never been in trouble with the school before. _Well, there was that one time._ John remembered an eight-year-old Sammy, crying in the office, blood slowly coming from his nose. John asked what had happened. The principal at the school they went to at the time explained that a particularly rowdy, older child had been picking on Sam, threatening the younger boy for whatever money he had. When he said he didn't have any, the kid attacked Sam, punching him in the nose. Dean had quickly intervened and knocked the kid out. John remember arriving at the school and seeing Dean trying to calm down a still hysterical Sam, with the same calm look on his face that he was wearing today.

John laughed, remembered that Sam hadn't been crying because of his bloodied nose. _No, him and Dean had had plenty of those before. Not to mention much worse injuries._ Sam was crying because he thought he was in trouble. Even then, the kid couldn't stand the thought of disappointing an authority figure.

John brought his thoughts back to the present as he entered the room and Sam and Dean looked up at him simultaneously. The room was silent, until a large framed man with grey hair and a suit that looked overpriced approached John. "Mr. Winchester?" The man asked. John noticed the man absent-mindedly scanning him with an unsure look on his face. John knew he much look like nothing short of a hobo. He was wearing ripped cloths, still dirty from the hunt, and had a few bruises beginning to appear on his face. One thing was for sure. _ He didn't look like a damned businessman. _

"Mr. Winchester," the man continued. "I'm Mr. Sheppard, your sons' principal," the man lifted his hand and John shook it. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting." John was silent. "I'm sure you're wondering why you're her."

_Of course he was wondering why he was here._ John's anger began to take hold of him. He was tired and hurting and had to cut a hunt short to meet with some over-dressed principal and deal with whatever stupid thing his boys had done.

"Dad," Sam spoke for the first time. "It was all my fault. Dean didn't-"

"Quiet Sam," John interrupted him, his voice harsh.

Mr. Sheppard spoke up again. "It seems your son Dean forged your signature on Sam's permission slip. His class was going to visit the local university."

John glared at Dean angrily. "He forged my signature?"

"That's correct," the principal continued. "Mr. Winchester, we take forgery very seriously here. I am going to see to it that both boys are punished, however seeing that this is Sam's first offense and he is usually quite pleasant at school, I may go a bit easier on him."

"Is that all?" John asked. He didn't see why the school had made such a fuss over him coming to see them right away. Sure his boys messed up, but couldn't it have waited until he got back?

"Actually, no. I would like to speak to you privately. If you two would kindly wait outside." Sam and Dean got up and left the room.

_Here it came. _"Mr. Winchester, please have a seat."

"Look, I appreciate you calling me down here, but I just got back from a business trip, I really am-"

"Mr. Winchester," Mr. Sheppard interrupted loudly, a new harshness appearing in his voice. "I'll be forward with you. I understand that you are a busy man, but Sam and Dean shouldn't-"

John was furious. "I know, they shouldn't be left alone for so long, but-"

"Mr. Winchester, please, I'm simply trying to state the fact that you seem to be gone often. The last few times we've requested a meeting with you, you've been out of town or,-"

_Damn, this was gonna be a long day._ John was barely listening to the words that were coming from the man's mouth. This wasn't the first time he'd been given this lecture. Every time he failed to come to some stupid meeting with the school, some principal or teacher would end up telling him how to raise his kids, saying how unhealthy it was that they were left alone, or how it was inconvenient for the boys to switch schools so often. He heard the same words every time. And every time his reaction was the same.

"Look, my boys are fine. Dean's seventeen and fully capable of watching Sam for a few days," John explained, his voice still raised. "As for the whole permission slip thing, I'll make sure they're punished. They won't pull something stupid like that again."

Before the principal had time to react, John stood up and left the room, letting the door close behind him. He walked outside to where Sam and Dean were sitting, not saying a word.

"Dad, I'm-"Sam began.

"Get in the car." John was furious. The boys knew better then do something like this. They knew what was at risk. They knew how much trouble John could get in for leaving them alone for so long. John got in the car and quickly drove home, not speaking the entire way.__

---------

"You interrupted a hunt!"

"I'm so _sorry_ to be an inconvienince for you!"

This had been going on for awhile now. John and Sam's usual screaming match. John still didn't know what had really happened for the boys to get in trouble. But he didn't care right now. _He was angry. Really_ _angry._

"Now I've got to start over. Find the damn thing all over again," John's voice was harsher and louder than it had been all day. "And besides that, you risked the school getting CPS involved. Do you really want that to happen Sam?"

"If you'd just remembered to sign the damn slip it wouldn't have happened!" Sam was yelling. "Me and Dean wouldn't be in trouble and you could still be on your precious hunt. But once again, John Winchester is so obsessed hunting, that you forget all the other important things!" And with that, Sam stormed off outside.

John thought for a minute. Now he remembered Sam asking him to sign something before he left. He'd told the kid he would get to it before taking off. _He hadn't remembered._

It was quiet in the motel room now. John looked at Dean, sitting on the bed, who'd been quiet since they left the school. His son's face had lost every bit of boredom it had shown earlier and had taken a serious look, a look that Dean rarely showed. John was still angry, but his voice had calmed, realizing his mistake. "And what do you have to say?"

Dean looked up and quietly said, "You're pushing him away."

John was taken back by his son's statement. John sat down on the bed opposite from Dean. He said nothing. _It was just a damned permission slip. It was no big deal._

"It was important to him dad. You know what a geek he is. He was really looking forward to this trip."

"Son, I…" John was at a loss for words.

"I know I shouldn't have signed it for him, but he was really upset. Besides…," Dean looked up and John was relived that his face had lost a touch of the seriousness it had shown before. "it's not like it's the first time I've forged your signature."

John was glad for his son's attempt to lighten the mood. "You boys know better than to do something that could get you in trouble when I'm on a hunt. People get suspicious."

"I know dad, but…" Dean paused for a second. His voice was still serious. "Sam was right. I mean, you shoulda remembered to sign it before you left. We wouldn't be in trouble and the two of you wouldn't be fighting." John noticed the unease in his son's voice. Dean rarely talked down to him. _But he was right._

John was quiet again. When neither of them spoke, Dean spoke up again. "I mean, you two are always fighting. I'm just worried that you're gonna-," Dean paused again. "I'm afraid you're gonna keep getting into these stupid fights and he's gonna leave. I mean, he has no problem storming outta' the front door, what do you think he's gonna do when he's eighteen and doesn't _have_ to come back."

John thought about Dean's words carefully. _They were true._ John never had this problem with Dean. It was strange to him. Dean _always _listened to what John said, always followed his orders. _Always._ But when it came to anyone else, the boy didn't hesitate to misbehave. Sam on the other hand would never disobey a teacher; would never argue with an authority figure. But when it came to John, he didn't listen to a word that he said without feeling a need to argue about it.

"I'm really sorry dad," Dean said.

John sighed. "Just make sure the next time your forge my signature, you don't get caught." John smiled and Dean grinned back.

---------

The fight ended as it always did. John and Sam didn't talk for a few days. After numerous angry looks from Sam directed towards John and both of them refusing to speak to one another, things slowly slipped back into place. It wasn't the best way to fix there problems. _Hell, they weren't fixing there problems at all._ But it was just the way things worked.

John thought about his mistake. _It was just a signature. _John didn't see how such a little thing could cause so much trouble.He didn't purposely forget to sign the damn thing. He didn't see what the big deal was. But then he thought about Dean's words. _He was pushing his son away._ Slowly, but surely. John didn't know what to do. He couldn't find any common ground with his son. He couldn't find a way to fix it. _But there was the hunt to think about. _Right now, that's what was important.

---Well, thanks for reading. Reviews are always great. I'll get the last chapter up as soon as I can.


	6. Chapter 6

---Well, here it is- the final chapter. I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing in. Thanks to everyone who read this little story of mine and also to everyone who wrote a review. Also, thank you to Nathan, my beta. You're awesome.

**Spoiler Warning: **This chapter is pretty much a missing scene from episode "In My Time of Dying." So obvious spoilers for that as well as "Devil's Trap." So far the story has been preseries and I was tempted to keep it that way, but looking back on IMTOD, I realized that John's words and actions just fit this story so well.

**Disclaimer: **Obviously, nothing Supernatural belongs to me.

Chapter 6- The Least He Could Do

It turned out John _had _pushed Sam away. Those four years had been hard on him and Dean. Without Sam there, there were too many hunts they weren't able to take part in. Too many monsters let go. _Too many words left unspoken._

Maybe that was why John left. He was getting close to finding the demon now. The next few months would be dangerous. Too dangerous to get Dean involved, especially without the help of Sam. _He'd already lost one son, he couldn't loose another. _Maybe this way, he could save his sons from an end they didn't deserve. By cutting himself off from them both, they wouldn't have to suffer from a destiny they never asked for. _But look how that plan turned out._ As John watched the hospital machines pumping life into his oldest son, he realized that he'd done everything wrong. _Everything._

Now all John had to do was wait. Wait for the evil that would take his life. Waiting for the evil that would give back Dean's.

---------

John woke up in the hospital, hurting and confused about what had happened. But as his vision cleared a little, so did his head. The events of the night came crashing back to him, just like the huge semi had done to the Impala.

John remembered the crash. He remembered Sam saying something to him. _Something about the colt? About starting over? _And then nothing. _Darkness._ He didn't even have time to think about his sons. _Sam and Dean._ _ Where were they? Were they alright? Were they even alive?_ John started to heart-stopping panic, when a doctor came into his room, assuring him that he would be fine, that his boys were alive.

"Where are they? Can I see them?" John urged the doctor.

The man sighed. "I'll send in your youngest son. Sam, isn't it? John nodded. "But I'm afraid Dean is in critical condition. He's slipped into a coma."

---------

"So…what else did the doctor say about Dean?"

"Nothin'. Look, since the doctors won't do anything…then we'll have to, that's all. I don't know, I'll find some hoodoo priest and lay some mojo on him," Sam replied.

"Yeah." Sam looked just about as convinced about that as John did.

"But, Sam…I don't know if you're gonna find anyone." _He wouldn't offer any false hope._

John noticed his son's expression become sad and then angry. "Why not? I found that faith healer before."

"Well, that was one in a million."

"So what? What, do we just sit here with our thumbs up our ass?"

"No, I said we'd look. All right? I'll check under every stone. Where's the Colt?"

"Your son is dying, and you're worried about the Colt?"

Sam was angry now and John didn't want to fight. He was tired of fighting. Sam didn't realize how important this gun was. It was the most important thing right now. "We are hunting this demon, and maybe it's hunting us, too. That gun may be our only card."

---------

John sat in Dean's room. He watched the various machines' watched as Dean lie there appearing lifeless. He remembered some of what had happened when he was possessed. He remembered the things that he said to of his boys as the demon pinned them against the wall. He remembered the terrible feeling of causing his sons pain and the pain he felt as he watched the demon use him to torture his own son.

And then John was thinking to himself. His thoughts came to him as thought somebody else were speaking the words to him. _As if somebody were in the room, speaking to him._

_Come on, John. You gotta help him. He's gotta get better. You haven't called a soul for help. You haven't even tried. Aren't you gonna do anything? Aren't you even gonna say anything? He's done everything you have ever asked him. _Everything._ He's given everything he's ever had. And now you're just gonna sit there, and you're gonna watch him die? What the hell kind of father are you?_

And that's when John was sure about what he was about to do. He was sure it was the only way to bring Dean back. _He knew what was really important._

---------

And then they were fighting again. "You think I wouldn't find out?" Sam spoke up.

"What are you talkin' about?" John replied. He watched his son move from the window, a fierceness and anger on his face that John rarely saw.

"That stuff from Bobby. You don't use it to ward off a demon, you use it to summon one. You're planning on bringing the demon here, aren't you, and having some stupid macho showdown!"

"I have a plan, Sam." _To get your brother back._

"That's exactly my point! Dean is dying and you have a plan! You know what? You care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own son!"

"Do not tell me how I feel. I am doing this for Dean."

"How? How is revenge gonna help him? You're not thinkin' about anybody but yourself! It's the same selfish obsession!"

John knew Sam had every right to be angry. He knew how much he cared about his brother. He would do anything for Dean, like Dean would do for him, and now it looked like John was giving up on him. It looked as though he were putting the hunt before his own son. But Sam was wrong. _How could he put the hunt before his son's life?_ But John didn't think about the numerous times that he _had _put the hunt before them. _Before his family._ But John was too blinded by anger to realize that. To realized that he'd been wrong so many times.

"It's funny, you know what, I thought this was your obsession, too! This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be part of this hunt! Now, if you killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened!" John listened to his words and cursed himself. _No, he didn't mean that. He didn't mean what he was saying._

"It was possessing you, Dad, I would've killed you, too!"

"Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now!"

"Go to hell."

"I should have never taken you along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake!" _It was a mistake to involve you in this life. _

---------

Dean was slipping away. John knew it. It had to be done. This deal had to be made. And as he spoke with the demon, face to face, the same Demon that killed his wife, his beautiful Mary, the same demon who ruined his life, his family's life, he had no regret. The cult wasn't important. Neither was his own soul. All that was important was making sure that Dean was alive. Making sure that Sammy still had his big brother. Making sure that his boys were okay.

And just like that, the deal was made. The colt and his soul, for Dean's life.

---------

John walked into Dean's hospital room to find both of his sons talking. Dean was alive. _Thank God. It'd worked._

"How you feelin', dude?" John asked his son, speaking to him for the first time since the night at the cabin.

"Fine, I guess. I'm alive."

"That's what matters." _That was_ **all**_ that mattered._

"Where were you last night?" It was Sam who spoke this time, with the same anger in his voice that had been present earlier.

"I had some things to take care of."

"Well, that's specific."

"Come on, Sam," Dean said, trying to stop the fight that was about to erupt.

"Did you go after the demon?" Sam asked John.

"No."

"You know, why don't I believe you right now?"

John thought for a moment. This was his last chance. His last chance to make peace. The last chance to say those little words that he knew would mean so much to Sam. He knew what had to be done; knew that he had to apologize to his son; knew that he had to make things right. _This was his last chance._

"Can we not fight? You know, half the time we're fightin', I don't know what we're fightin' about. We're just buttin' heads. Sammy, I...I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't wanna fight anymore, okay?" And just like that, the fighting stopped and John knew that he would never argue with his son again.

"Dad, are you all right?" Sam sounded worried.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just tired. Hey, Sam, would you mind, uh…would you mind gettin' me a cup of caffeine?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." John watched as his son exited the room, wondering if this would be the last time he would ever see him. But if it was, at least he'd apologized. At least he'd made an attempt at peace. And that was all that could be asked.

"What is it?" Dean spoke up.

"You know, when you were a kid…I'd come home from a hunt. And after what I'd seen, I'd be…I'd be wrecked. And you'd…come up to me, and you'd put your hand on my shoulder, and you'd look me in the eye, and you'd… you'd say, "It's okay, Dad." Dean…I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"You shouldn't have had to say that to me. I should've been sayin' that to you. You know, I put…I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, and you took care of me. You did that. And you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know…that I am so proud of you."

"Is this really you talkin'?" John looked at his son and was reminded of the little boy who'd showed him how to use a toaster.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's really me."

"Why are you sayin' this stuff?"

"I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay?"

"Yeah, Dad, you know I will. You're scarin' me."

"Don't be scared, Dean."

And John knew that theses small word- these words of comfort, telling Dean for the first time in so many years that he was proud of him, meant as much to Dean as his apology to Sam had.

---------

John walked back to his room, where he knew he would meet his fate; knew his life would come to an end. As he did, he thought about so much. He thought about his sons, about Mary, about the hunt. He thought about all of the mistakes that he'd made. He thought about all of the times that he pushed parenting aside to be a hunter. All of the little things that he'd missed in his sons' lives. All of the little things he hadn't managed to do for them.

And then he thought about what he was doing now. He was giving his life for his son. _Giving his soul._ This was what was important. Making sure his boys were okay. To anyone else, it would be a big deal. But John knew that it was just another little thing that he was asked to do as a parent. It was like showing up to a baseball game, or remembering to call to check up on his boys. He was asked to put his son in front of the hunt, and now he'd finally managed to do that.

As he waited there in his room, John knew that he'd finally learned how to do the little things in life. Because John knew that giving his life for his son was the least he could do.

_The End_

---Thanks again for reading. Reviews are always awesome. I'm currently working on a new fic and hope to have it posted this weak.


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